Life’s Amazing Secrets_ How to Find Balance and Purpose in Your Life

That was only until he found out what the stylist was up to. On the outside, she seemed very cooperative and friendly, but on the inside she harboured deep envy, wanting to replace him as the lead photographer. ‘After a few months of working together, Jaymin started noticing some odd patterns in her behaviour. If a shoot was scheduled, she would deliberately come late. If he wanted to style the model one way, she would ignore his request and dress them a different way. But the worst was still yet to come. ‘Another day, another shoot. Jaymin was at his desk editing some pictures he had just taken when, out of the blue, an office boy came up to Jaymin and said, “Sir, the HR lady wants to see you.” ‘“What about?” Jaymin asked. ‘“I’m not sure, sir,” the office boy replied. ‘It was nothing. The HR lady just wanted Jaymin to fill out some documents for his payslips. However, the odd thing was that when he returned to his computer, the files that he was working on had been deleted. Hours of work wiped off his hard drive. Jaymin rushed to the IT department to try and recover them, to no avail. They were lost—permanently. ‘Over the course of a few months, Jaymin’s photo backup had mysteriously disappeared four times. He either needed a new laptop or someone had hacked his password and was deliberately sabotaging his work. ‘He decided to set a trap to see who it was. He asked the IT department to point the CCTV camera towards his laptop. They agreed, excited by the fact that this was as close as they would come to playing undercover detectives. After a big shoot, he purposely left his laptop open and then rushed to the CCTV screens at the IT support. They had the popcorn out and were ready to catch the criminal. It was a stake-out. A few minutes after Jaymin left his desk, not to his surprise, the stylist logged on to his laptop and started deleting his work. She had been caught red-handed! Surely, she would be fired. ‘Jaymin went straight to the HR manager with a video recording of what the stylist was doing. However, the twist in the tale was that the HR manager and the stylist were in this together. They wanted to prove that he was inefficient, lazy and didn’t do his work on time. They were both jealous of the autonomy and resources he had been given by the director. Jaymin was a trusted member of the team who had been given the privilege of managing his own schedule. But that

had made this duo envious. Why did they have to come in for work at a fixed time when Jaymin could waltz in as he pleased? they thought. Both of them conspired against him: the HR manager out of frustration that Jaymin did not have to report or listen to her and the stylist out of ambition to take his position. ‘They both reported their false story to the director, who called Jaymin in for a meeting. Even though Jaymin had proof that he was completing his work on time, he decided to resign from his position. He wanted to start his own studio anyway and did not prefer to work in such a toxic environment. The director pleaded for him to stay, but it was of no use. ‘As Jaymin was packing up his things at his desk, he thought of copying all the photographs he had taken so that he could use them as a portfolio for his future work. But the bitterness of the duo was so strong that they had deleted his entire portfolio when Jaymin was meeting with the director! Years of hard work lost in a flash—all because of envy and uncontrolled ambition. ‘Jaymin’s story highlights unhealthy competition, which makes one sacrifice one’s principles and values, to externally get ahead.’ ‘Wow, what a story. It’s not like that at my workplace,’ Harry said. ‘Well, it’s not that extreme anyway. As stressful as my work can get, I do feel I have a good team.’ ‘Yes, Jaymin’s situation was unique, and it may not get that bad for most people,’ I said. ‘No one should ever do what the stylist did. But if we don’t compete at work, won’t we be left behind?’ Harry asked with some confusion. ‘There is no question of not competing! If you want to grow, you have to compete,’ I replied. Healthy Competition ‘The only difference is whom are you competing with,’ I added. ‘People with a closed mindset want to grow by beating others in their field. Open-minded people, on the other hand, grow by developing themselves. They know that nobody is their competition. They are their own competition. Every day they keep striving to become better versions of themselves, even if the growth is only a tiny fragment. They feel uncomfortable if they remain the same as they were

yesterday. The actor Matthew McConaughey spoke about this principle in his 2014 Oscar acceptance speech.’ ‘Oh, yes. I have seen it on YouTube,’ Harry replied. Since the car was still at a halt, I pulled out my phone and played the short video. The words of the American actor echoed around the car: ‘And to my hero. That’s who I chase. Now when I was fifteen years old, I had a very important person in my life come to me and say, “Who’s your hero?” And I said, “I don’t know, I gotta think about that. Give me a couple of weeks.” I come back two weeks later, this person comes up and says, “Who’s your hero?” I said, “I thought about it. You know who it is? It’s me in ten years.” So I turned twenty- five. Ten years later, that same person comes to me and says, “So, are you a hero?” And I was like, “Not even close. No, no, no.” She said, “Why?” I said, “Because my hero’s me at thirty-five.” So, you see, every day, every week, every month and every year of my life, my hero’s always ten years away. I’m never gonna be my hero. I’m not gonna attain that. I know I’m not, and that’s just fine with me because that keeps me with somebody to keep on chasing. As the video ended, I put my phone back in my pocket and shared my reflection, ‘We should imbibe this thought pattern of self-competition, rather than feeling insecure about others going ahead. We should be striving to do our very best to realize our dreams about our future selves. Not only will this attitude keep our mind free from envy and insecurity but it will also help us reach our fullest potential, bringing immense success and a deep sense of satisfaction.’ A young boy learning the traditional Kathak dance was regularly missing his steps and stumbling during practice. Frustrated, he came to his teacher and asked, ‘When will I be able to dance finely like your other students? When will I be able to keep up with the beats and perform every move with grace?’ The teacher replied, ‘When you stop looking at your fellow students during the practice. Remember, you’re not in competition with them. You’re in competition with yourself. Your goal is to simply be better than what you were yesterday, not better than the other boys and girls in the class.’ Whether in dancing, playing a sport, in business or anything in life, this ideology brings self-excellence. And we see this ideology in play at Apple Inc.

Only if you live in a cave somewhere in the Gobi Desert would you not know that Apple is one of the most successful companies of the modern era. In 2018 it was ranked the ninth-richest company in the world, jumping up the list in the previous decade with the launch of the popular iPhone. Have you ever bought an iPhone from an Apple Store on the day of its launch? You’re greeted by hundreds of staff, all in matching uniforms, who clap and cheer loudly as you purchase their newest product. Although I have never seen this, my friends tell me it’s like a party. People become hysterical. But what is it that makes Apple so innovative that people keep coming back to them? The answer is found in the culture given by their leadership. The late Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple, believed that competing with others was a distraction from your own inner creativity. To not strive for originality would have been disastrous for Apple. If we compare ourselves with others too much, we succumb to ordinariness. We can start blindly imitating others and even lose our essence. In the worst-case scenario, we becoming boring! Steve Jobs was notorious for paying careful attention to detail in all his products. He wanted to change the world, not just copy the next best company to increase his stock price. He wanted to express himself fully, not just follow the expressions of others. He wanted to compare himself to what he had done in the past, not just with Bill Gates! ‘So are you trying to say that comparison with others is always bad?’ Harry interrupted. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘If we do have to compare ourselves with others, we should compare positive attitudes. That person’s attitude to tirelessly keep working or grinding at their skills is inspiring. I want that same attitude. Let me learn from them and in turn help them in any way I can. Let us mutually grow. That is how a an open-minded person thinks.’ ‘That sounds great. But when competitive people around you engage in dirty politics to drag you down and grab the deal, should you just keep quiet and continue to work on? Look at what the stylist did to Jaymin,’ Harry objected. ‘There will always be those who play dirty politics at the workplace,’ I replied. ‘This seems to be in every office, like moisture in the air. Wherever there are human beings, you will find two types of people: those who work in honest ways, living with integrity, and those who don’t. Of course, this is a

generalization. Nobody has a perfect moral compass, neither is anyone completely morally bankrupt. Even if you leave your job to join another company, there will be people engaging in politics there as well. It may be a little less or a little more, and may be of a different flavour. However, we must learn how to manage demanding situations at the workplace in a clean way. There are a few books written by experienced professionals that explain, in great detail, the subject of dealing with workplace politics. I highly recommend that you read one of those books. The bottom line, however, is, rather than being political, it is better to constantly work hard on self-improvement to achieve excellence. In extreme cases like Jaymin’s, when it is impossible to stay surrounded by the negativity of bosses and colleagues, it is better to move on. Only if you have another work option, of course.’ Summary: There are two causes of unhealthy competition, being envious of someone or uncontrolled ambition. We compete with people who have the same skills or outlook in life as us. When another person’s skills have no bearing on our life, we rarely feel threatened. Competition is found in all spheres of life. Some examples include sports, business, politics and the workplace. Jaymin’s story is an extreme case-study of unhealthy competition. Healthy competition is about competing with ourselves rather than others to become a better version of ourselves. There will always be workplace politics but we should learn how to manage it in a clean way.

FOURTEEN Self-Discovery To find your purpose in life, you must go on a journey of self-discovery. ‘Sometimes the warrior feels as if he were living two lives at once . . . There is a bridge that links what I do with what I would like to do, he thinks. Slowly, his dreams take over his everyday life, and then he realizes that he is ready for the thing he always wanted. Then all that is needed is a little daring, and his two lives become one.’ —Paulo Coelho Harry thanked me for the insights. Wanting to take the conversation further, he asked, ‘What do you think is the key element needed for self-improvement and competition with oneself?’ ‘If there is one thing that I think is the foundation of growth, it is understanding who you are. You can only compete with yourself if you have a clear idea of your potential, your capacities and certainly your limitations,’ I replied. Harry listened with great interest as I elaborated the concept further. Understanding Ourselves We have to understand ourselves to be able to compete with ourselves. What are our tendencies? What do we like? What do we not like? Where do we want to be in the future? These are only a few preliminary questions we need to answer to succeed. And this process of inquiry begins our journey of self-discovery. We know by now that giving and receiving gifts can strengthen our relationships. One story about giving gifts which I find hilarious is about a couple on their wedding anniversary. A woman told her husband as she wished him, ‘I just dreamt that you gave me a beautiful diamond necklace. What do you think it means?’ she asked him. ‘You’ll know tonight,’ he said with a smile on his face. Her eyes lit up in anticipation. That evening the husband came home

with a beautifully wrapped present and gave it to his wife. Could it be what I dreamt of? she thought to herself. Delighted, she opened it, only to find a book entitled The Meaning of Dreams! I used to always wonder why one would put in so much effort using fancy paper, bows and ribbons to wrap a gift. Why can we not just give the gift upfront to the person whom we want to express our love for? I came to the conclusion that if we offer a gift to someone without wrapping it, there is no element of excitement involved. Concealing a gift creates suspense, and when it is opened there is excitement and thus great joy. Not only does the person who receives the gift feel happy but so does the one who gives it. In the same way, everyone has been gifted with special talents and skills. Every individual has something unique in them. If God were to reveal that talent to us straight away, from the very day we were born, there would be no excitement in our journey. God covers our talent, skills and potential only so that we have the chance to discover it. And in the process of doing so, in trying to figure out what we want to do with our lives, there is a tremendous sense of satisfaction. Self-discovery is not a one-time event but an ongoing evolution, and as life goes on we discover how much we are capable of achieving. Have you ever played ‘pass the parcel’ as a child? A classic at birthday parties, the game is centred around a prize wrapped up in a large number of gift wrappers. Between each layer of wrapping there is a smaller gift. As the music starts playing, the parcel is passed around a group of people, in anticipation for the music to stop. When it does, the person who now has the parcel in their hand removes one layer of wrapping paper and claims the small prize. The same process continues until the penultimate wrapper, when all the small prizes are gone and finally the main prize is revealed to the one who holds and unwraps the last layer. Now, what has this children’s game got to do with understanding ourselves? We need to unwrap multiple layers before we can actually discover our true potential. The further we delve towards realizing our potential, the more layers we start to uncover, and with every layer we come across smaller gifts that were hidden within us. We do not have to wait to experience happiness until all the layers are taken off and the large gift—our true potential—is revealed to us. The

journey itself is very exciting and brings deep satisfaction. When I think about this, it reminds me about the story of my young friend Sairaj. Blueberry Cheesecake On a surprisingly cool evening in Mumbai, I was invited to a Gujarati family’s home for dinner. They had been pleading with me to come for months, and Gujarati mothers can be very persuasive. So on their fifth invitation, I obliged. Both parents in the household were working professionals: the father was in a leading position at Standard Chartered bank and the mother was a professor of physiology at a medical school in the city. They were as busy as I was, but I noticed they always took time out for two things: spirituality and their son, Sairaj. You can imagine the spread of delicious Gujarati items on offer. From dhokla to undhiyu, and from khandvi to shrikhand, they had not spared any efforts. As I sat down, I enquired about Sairaj, their son who had just completed his tenth- grade exams. ‘He should be down in a moment,’ the father said. ‘He is so excited to see you.’ ‘I heard he did very well in his exams,’ I said. ‘Yes, he works very hard,’ the mother said, as she told me his marks. At that very moment, Sairaj walked into the room. He greeted me with a big hug and sat next to me at the dinner table. ‘Your mother was telling me that you got 93 per cent marks this year and that you did exceptionally well in mathematics and science!’ I said. Sairaj blushed. He was humble despite his academic achievements. ‘Thank you! I’m excited for the next year,’ he said energetically. ‘What stream have you chosen for the next year?’ I asked as Sairaj’s father forced more dhokla on to my plate. In India, children usually choose streams of subjects depending on their marks. Typically, children with very good marks choose engineering or medicine. I expected Sairaj would follow. Sairaj looked at his father and then looked down. ‘I am choosing commerce,’ he said. The expressions on his parents’ faces changed. Why had he chosen

commerce instead of the other streams, when he was capable of doing well at them? Stereotypically, commerce did not have as much scope in India as the other subjects did. ‘That’s great,’ I replied after a moment. I always try to encourage people’s decisions and dreams. ‘What will you do in university, then?’ I asked. At that moment, Sairaj’s mother brought out a blueberry cheesecake on a crystal plate. ‘Many people do not know this but the base of the blueberry cheesecake, which is made from graham cracker crumbs, sugar and butter, has to be baked at a high temperature for one hour!’ Sairaj said. That was an odd change of subject for a sixteen-year-old boy, I thought. ‘You then have to chill it for another hour so it stays firm like it is on the plate,’ Sairaj said, and then went on to describe the chocolate mousse that was setting in the fridge, and then shifted to savoury snacks like the dhokla and khandvi on the table. When he was doing this, you should have seen the expressions on his parents’ faces. Can you imagine what they must have been thinking? ‘I want to get into a career of hospitality and catering, after I finish commerce,’ Sairaj said, after a short while. The mood in the room changed again, with his parents’ faces also changing. Their expressions were not what one would expect—they were of great joy and happiness, all through! ‘I know what Sairaj wants to do with his life is not conventional. I told him he might want to take after his mother and that medicine might suit him better. However, he refused and kept cooking and cooking and cooking,’ his father said elated. ‘I couldn’t be happier, because he has found his passion in life, and I get to eat delicious desserts after work!’ he laughed. ‘Naturally, we were concerned that being a chef won’t make him as much money, but he loves what he does and he is good at it. India is a growing country with so much scope for being an entrepreneur,’ his mother added while cutting me a slice of cheesecake that was clearly too big for my stomach. ‘I am going to help him with the business side,’ his father said, beaming. ‘It seems as though you have it all figured out,’ I said, excited by the unique future that was ahead of Sairaj. I would not be surprised if this boy ended up opening a chain of five-star restaurants all over the world!

On the way back to the ashram after dinner, I thought to myself that if someone chooses what they love to do, there is no stress in their life. As they say, ‘If you do what you love, you will never have to work a day in your life.’ However, in reality, the majority of people are doing what they do not love to do, day in and day out. Ikigai Just like Sairaj, we all need to find purpose in our life, which has been linked with longer and happier lives. There are many psychological models that can aid us on our path to living fulfilling lives, one of which is the Japanese concept of ikigai. Ikigai has no direct English translation, but is understood to mean ‘a reason to live’ or having purpose in life. It comes from Japan, the country with the highest number of the most elderly people in the world. The island of Okinawa has an average male life expectancy of seventy-eight and an average female life expectancy of eighty-six! According to Akihiro Hasegawa, a clinical psychologist from Toyo Eiwa University, the word gai originates from the word kai, which translates as shell. He says that in the Heian period (794–1185) shells were considered extremely valuable. Therefore, gai now means to have ‘value in living’. According to this concept, to find purpose in life, you have to answer four questions, just as Sairaj and his family did subconsciously: What do you love? What are you good at? What does the world need? What can you get paid for?

Finding balance between the four areas may be the route to having a life that one looks forward to living. Not everybody’s purpose will appear to have an impact on the course of the world at first—it could be something as simple as Sairaj’s was. ‘However, not everyone is as young as Sairaj,’ Harry laughed as we were edging closer to more familiar parts of Mumbai. We had just passed some expensive designer shops. ‘If you have a lifestyle that is linked to wearing such expensive clothes,’ Harry pointed to the displays in the window, ‘then it is hard to change your existing career and do what you love. At one point, I wanted to work with nature, as a conservationist to protect the environment, but that would not pay well,’ he confessed. ‘You do not need to give up everything or make dramatic changes to start living your purpose. Your purpose does not necessarily mean your job either,’ I

replied. ‘So then what do I do? I do not have any children yet, so I know that I can make time,’ Harry added. ‘You have to act on two things. The first is, love what you have to do. We all have to pay bills, maintain our lifestyle and work in the jobs we are already in. For most people, this work that we may not be passionate about is around 80 per cent of our lives. Therefore, we might as well start loving it! Which parts of your job do you love? Focus on those parts.’ ‘I suppose I like working with other colleagues on client projects,’ he said. ‘Then try and focus on that,’ I said. ‘The second thing is, make time in life for what you love to do. Start adding conservation and the environment into your life. Explore India over weekends! Research which forests or areas need help and how best you can help!’ I said passionately. I did not know much about helping the environment, but he understood my point. ‘We tend to waste our time off work by doing mundane things that bring us no satisfaction: window- shopping, eating out at the same places, and so on. There is a whole world out there to explore, and many people who feel the same way. We have to take a calculated risk to start adding what we truly love to do, our ikigai, into our lives. Maybe one day what we love to do and what pays the bills can be the same if we really work on ourselves!’ Summary: We should understand ourselves to know what is meaningful to us, and what we want to devote our time to. This can be done by understanding our purpose, which takes dedication and patience. Discovering our purpose is exciting, just as opening a gift gives the feeling of anticipation and joy. Reaching our purpose in life is a journey, not an event. The Japanese have a model called ikigai or a ‘reason to live’, which is composed of four traits we need to understand: What do we love? What are we good at? What does the world need? What can we be paid for? Sairaj and his family discovered that for him early on in his life.

If we are older and have not yet figured out our purpose, we can follow the principle: love what we have to do and do what we love to do. Note: To help you find your ikigai, you can complete an exercise in Appendix 2 (Ikigai Worksheet).

FIFTEEN Decoding Spirituality at Work This chapter clears the many misconceptions about spirituality: that spiritualists are not ambitious, that spiritualists will get walked over at the workplace because of their values and that we should not aspire for the nicer things in life. ‘Earn with integrity, spend with compassion.’ —Radhanath Swami ‘So you’re telling me to find my purpose. How can spirituality help?’ Harry asked. His phone rang for a brief moment and then stopped. He checked it and said, ‘Another missed call from my wife. I better check up on her . . .’ He placed the phone to his ear for a minute, but there was no answer again. ‘Is everything okay?’ I questioned. ‘She’s not picking up, but I am sure everything is fine.’ I responded to his original question, ‘Spirituality helps declutter your mind. This clarity gives you the ability to understand your purpose at a deeper level. You don’t have to become a monk like me to practise spirituality!’ ‘That’s what Lalita is afraid of,’ Harry chuckled. ‘She thinks if I get too involved, I will also shave my head and join the monastery.’ ‘We don’t have any room for you anyway,’ I joked. That really was true—we have so many people come to us to become monks that we are forced to turn some away. ‘It’s not just Lalita. Most people think that if you practise spirituality, your ambition to achieve is compromised. You become satisfied—Zen, like you,’ he said. ‘Do I look satisfied?’ I asked. ‘Well, sort of. I know you’re busy, but don’t you think you would have been more ambitious if you did not practise spirituality? I am sure some of your friends are now millionaires in America!’ he said.

It was a slightly cutting remark, but I was used to it. It’s one of the greatest misconceptions of spirituality. Among many others, this misconception was also addressed by Sri Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita. ‘Let me take your mind back to the battlefield of Kurukshetra,’ I said. Does Spirituality Kill Ambition? By now we all know what happened to Arjuna, just as he was about to engage in warfare. For us, it would not be surprising to have a nervous breakdown before battle; most of us are not trained in the military arts and would be fearful of our own deaths. But not Arjuna. He feared harming his grandfathers, his teachers and his own brothers who stood on the other side with arms in hand. He had a strong sense of compassion, but it was misplaced. Not fighting would have inundated the world with social injustice. Arjuna knew that, but knowing something and understanding it are two different things. What is the use of a kingdom, a throne and all this opulence? I can just retire to the forest without harming anyone, he thought. That is the exact misconception that people have about spiritualists. If you practise spirituality, then you are satisfied with achieving the bare minimum. Why be the managing director of a company when you can be satisfied being a run-of-the-mill worker? In this way, people feel that spirituality kills ambition. Sri Krishna addressed this issue by urging Arjuna to fight. If Arjuna did not fight, the finite, neutral resources of the world would remain in the hands of the unscrupulous Kauravas, who wished to exploit them and the people under their rule. And as long as people of weak character hold all the resources, society remains in chaos. This is because the resources are used for destructive, self- aggrandizing and selfish purposes. However, if the resources are transferred to the virtuous, they are used constructively for social contribution and as a medium to serve others. In one sense, spiritualists should be satisfied within themselves. For their personal needs, they should be happy with the bare minimum because they know that things don’t bring happiness. Nevertheless, when it comes to working hard with the aim of serving others, they should not be satisfied. If they are docile and passive, things which could have been used to uplift humanity will not be.

Therefore, Krishna inspired Arjuna to fight and win back the throne. In one sense, it was not the throne of the Pandavas. It was the throne of the people of their kingdom who needed the strong value-based leadership of the Pandavas for their society to thrive. Therefore, spirituality does not kill our ambition; it redirects it towards the service of others. Most people do not have the intention of being completely selfless. To be ambitious and entrepreneurial for yourself is not wrong. There is nothing wrong with having more, earning more and living in luxury. This is coming from a monk whose life’s possessions fit into a 2-metre by 3-metre room. I strongly encourage people to be successful in the world. If you have the desire to have a luxurious life, have an expensive car, have exotic holidays; there is nothing wrong with that. If by the blessings of God we have the ambition and the capacity to achieve more, we must fulfil our potential, not suppress it by force. What is wrong is if we just live a luxurious life; the important asterisk after ‘living in splendour’ is to assess if we are giving back proportionately. Wealth assists selflessness by enabling one to perform charity. A person may spend crores on their wedding, but is he or she giving proportionate amounts away to help those in need? The standard of our living gives some temporary happiness to our mind, but it does not give deep satisfaction to the heart. Only giving does that. Therefore, I encourage people to passionately pursue their ambitions. But I also tell them that when God blesses us with more because of doing so, we should not only increase the standard of our living but also the standard of our giving. ‘I don’t have a rebuttal to that. However, let’s say that my ambition does not get affected by practising spirituality, does it make me lose my cutting edge?’ Harry asked vaguely. ‘How so?’ I replied as we neared the temple. ‘There is this perception about spiritualists. If you tell someone that you practise spirituality, they look at you funny, as if your ideas and lifestyle are so backward,’ he whined. ‘I don’t agree with that,’ I said. And I didn’t. ‘Spiritualists are some of the most powerful people in the world. Look at civil rights activist Martin Luther King Jr, or the former President of India, Dr A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. They were people who practised spirituality.’

‘That’s true, but in the office . . .’ ‘So we’re talking about the office!’ I interrupted and laughed. ‘Why did you not say so? We just talked about office politics and how an office is merely a microcosm.’ Harry blushed. ‘In the office . . .’ he paused. ‘If you tell people that you are having a monk over for lunch, they think you are slightly odd. People feel that because you like meditation and yoga and are trying to be humble, others can take advantage of you.’ I understood what Harry was trying to say. ‘That is another misconception that is found in the working world: if you are trying to be virtuous, people will take advantage of you; that spiritual people will get walked over in business. Let me tell you an ancient story of why that is not true.’ The Sage and the Snake Snakes are both respected and feared in India. According to many stereotypes, India is a land whose economy runs on income from the Taj Mahal, Goa and snake charmers! Of course, that is not true. But you cannot separate snakes and Indian culture—they are part of our landscape. Thousands of years ago, a group of villagers approached a saintly man who was meditating inside a cave in a mountain. Years of meditation had given him the wisdom to solve any problem that came his way. Panting, the villagers approached him, and with their voices choking with fear, one of them complained, ‘O revered one, please help us. There is a large venomous snake that is terrorizing the village!’ The sage did not respond. He was still in deep meditation. The villagers looked at each other and then pushed the unofficial spokesman to speak again. ‘You can hear the hiss of the snake for miles around. He mercilessly bites anyone on his path, regardless of whether or not he is threatened. As a consequence of this, we are all fearful to venture out in the fields by ourselves, which has led to our crops running dry. The snake’s venom is not the only thing that is killing us off one by one; we are dying of starvation too! We beg of you to help us!’ The saint was naturally compassionate; most genuine, spiritual-minded people are. Understanding the gravity of the situation, he got up from his straw mat and

looked at the villagers. ‘Let’s search for that snake,’ he said. The villagers cheered, full of hope as a band of them now trailed behind the saint in search of their hissing enemy. As they approached the dusty ghost land which was once their home, the bewitching sound of the snake echoed from the other side of the village. It approached the band of villagers with great speed, paying no regard to their pitchforks or torches of fire. The villagers fled for their lives, but the saint stood still, undeterred by the hooded creature that came to attack him. The snake’s slithering and undulating green and black scales shimmered majestically in the sunlight. What beauty! the saint thought. Being confused since the saint was not fleeing like the rest of its prey, the snake stopped and stared at him. ‘Come forth, o magnificent one,’ the saint shouted out. The snake, who had never been treated with such kindness before, was mesmerized by these five words. The warmth of the saint’s words replaced the warmth of the blazing fire it was used to. The snake lost all its ferocity, glided towards the saint and coiled up meekly by his feet in obeisance. The villagers, some of them hiding in the trees and some of them on the other side of the fields, couldn’t hear the conversation. They looked on from a distance, astounded by what they were seeing. ‘I am stunned by your beauty,’ the saint said to the snake, as if they were old friends. ‘But why do you haunt the villagers as you do?’ The snake lowered its hood. ‘Leave your destructive ways and do not terrorize the poor villagers needlessly. Stop biting them—they are no match for you. There is plenty for you to eat in the forest.’ The snake bowed to the saint and resolved to leave the villagers alone. It, too, was stunned by the grace and gravity that the saint commanded. Anyone can start a new life by making new vows. The snake had done so, too. It turned a new leaf, and scrupulously kept its promise to begin a new life of innocence, without attempting to harm anyone. From that day, the villagers became elated, their crop yield doubled, their cattle grazed without agitation and their children played games in the forest. The saint returned to his cave to continue his journey inward. A happy story? Not yet. Several months later, the saint came down from the mountain to beg for just enough food from the villagers to keep himself alive. As he travelled to the village, he saw the same snake, coiled up near the root of a tree, lying mangled,

practically dead. Its scales had fallen off; it looked emaciated and injured, with sores all over its body. ‘My dear friend, what happened to you?’ the saint enquired with affection. ‘This is the fruit of being good,’ the snake replied. Although its venom had dried up, the snake spoke with bitterness. ‘I obeyed you. I gave up my tormenting ways. I left the villagers alone and stopped attacking them. But see what has happened to me. Everyone pelts me with stones, beats me with sticks, and even the children tease me and drag me mercilessly by my tail. I am now a laughing stock. However, I have kept my promise to you . . .’ The saint smiled and said, ‘O snake, you have done what I have asked, but you have not fully understood my direction. I told you not to bite them, but I said nothing about stopping your ferocious hiss that could deter people for miles on end.’ The snake uncoiled itself and understood what it had to do. The villagers trembled as the hissing sound returned to the area like a bad dream. Both the villagers and the snake lived safely from then on. ‘What a story!’ Harry said. ‘The moral is that spiritual people do not intentionally harm others, nor do they cheat others in business. However, at the same time, they do not behave timidly when it comes to work. Humility or meekness does not mean you are a pushover, it means you understand how to behave properly in all scenarios. Don’t they say, Be straightforward in two things: business and eating. We have to understand that spirituality transforms our character; it doesn’t make us fools!’ I said emphatically. Harry smiled as I continued, ‘In our ambition to make money, even the sky should not be the limit. But at the same time, we should be wary of the potency money has to distract us and impel us to make compromises with our ideals. If we introspect deeply and have the regular company of spiritual-minded people, we can keep our intentions and actions clean and grow to be a massive success, based on the foundation of good character. It takes time to develop, but good character is a shining light to show us how to live our life. That’s the spiritual principle of sadachar.’ Summary:

There are many misconceptions when it comes to being a spiritual- minded person and being successful in the world. One is that spirituality kills our ambitions and zest to achieve. This is false because spirituality just changes our motive to achieve. It makes us want to be hugely successful so that we can have the resources to help others. The story of Krishna and Arjuna in the Gita explains more: Fight and achieve to help others, but be internally content in your personal life. Another is that spiritual people get walked over in business because of their values. The story of the sage and the snake describes how we should stick to our values but be meticulous and straightforward in business. Though we can make as much money as we desire, and use it to serve, we should be wary of its potential to distract us from our purpose.

SIXTEEN Integrity and Character Spirituality helps develop good character. It is character that shines bright when words fail to do so. ‘Live your life in such a way that those who know you but don’t know God, will come to know God because they know you.’ —Anonymous What motivates people to act righteously? Is it the lectures they listen to from charismatic speakers? Is it the entertaining philosophy they hear? Or is it the electrifying mood of the events they attend? All these can help, but according to spiritual literature, what motivates people to take action is not the conviction in their heads, but the inspiration of their hearts. This is because people are touched more by what we do than what we say. We feel inspired by those who live with the right conduct, character and integrity, sadachar in Sanskrit. Carts and Character The Jagannath Rathayatra originated thousands of years ago in the town of Puri, situated on the east coast of India. It’s a festival where three huge chariots carry the deities of Shri Jagannath, Baladeva and Subhadra through the town for everyone to see. Millions flock to the city to participate in the festival. Since the 1970s, the Rathayatra festival has been replicated in cities all around the world. In fact, in Mumbai it occurs a few times a year in different parts of the city. A few years ago in Mumbai, in an affluent area called Cuffe Parade, where only the elite live, a Rathayatra was planned. The area is on the tip of Mumbai, and very narrow, so getting three large chariots there was difficult. Instead, they decided to have a small cart, like horse-drawn carriages found in England in the olden times.

A couple of days before the Rathayatra was about to take place, the managers realized that they were short of some funds. The last few days before any festival can be manic. The organizers combed through their entire phone books, ringing up followers to ask if they would like to sponsor parts of the event. One of those people was a close friend of mine—Hitesh Kotwani—who lived in the area and was a well-wisher of our community. Unfortunately, Hitesh had already given a considerable amount for the festival to make sure it went ahead, but he promised them that he would approach some of his friends to secure more funds. Most of Hitesh’s friends were well-to-do. You had to be to live in Cuffe Parade. One man he approached said that in that week three spiritual organizations had already approached him for charity and that he could not afford to give any more. However, because Hitesh was a friend of his, he instantly wrote a cheque. Hitesh was quite the fundraiser, which deeply pleased the organizers of the festival! On the day of the festival, thousands of people came out into the streets of Cuffe Parade, ready to dance, chant and sing for Shri Jagannath. The gathering was sublime, with people wearing spectacular colours and dancing in unison. People poked their heads out of the windows of their flats and clapped along as the whole scene was very attractive. Even cab drivers who were delayed by Shri Jagannath’s procession could not help but smile at the festivities. As the cart moved from street to street, the driver did not realize how narrow they would be. Under pressure, he accidentally bumped the wheel of the cart against a silver Mercedes parked on that road. In the energy and gusto of the festival, most people had not taken note of the incident. Others had probably taken note, but had moved on because there was no one to witness what had happened. There were no cameras on that street. Apart from that little slip-up, the rest of the festival went smoothly. Two days later, as Hitesh sat in his office, he received a call from the gentleman who had given him the cheque. Hitesh was shocked by what he said: ‘For the next festival, I want to sponsor the entire thing!’ This would be quite a sum of money. Bewildered, Hitesh asked him, ‘That seems really kind of you, but why this sudden urge?’

He explained, ‘When the yatra finished, I took the elevator down to the street from my apartment and went over to my silver Mercedes to find a huge dent on the side. I was distraught; it is not usual in this area to have such vandalism. But then I found a note flapping between my windscreen wipers.’ ‘What did it say?’ Hitesh asked. ‘It read, “To the owner of this beautiful car, we are so sorry to inform you that the equally beautiful cart of Shri Jagannath accidentally hit the side of your car during the festival. I waited here for an hour to see if you would come down so that I could speak to you personally, but no one came. Our temple would like to fully reimburse you to fix this dent. We are so sorry for this inconvenience. Here is my number and address. Please get in touch with us.” The man exclaimed, ‘What honesty! Nobody would have known that they hit my car. There was no way to figure out who hit my car, but they decided to own up. If these are the followers of Shri Jagannath, I want to do everything I can to support them. This is the type of spirituality that should be encouraged.’ The man was wealthy enough not to ask for money to fix the dent in his car, but called the number and profusely thanked the writer of the letter for representing spirituality rightly. Hitesh later told me about this man’s conversation with the temple monks on this. ‘At first the man whom I called about the dent was nervous that I would be angry. To his shock, he got a call saying that I wanted to give a larger donation. I suppose my car was blessed by Shri Jagannath,’ he laughed. Philosophy without good character is of little or no value. There are three aspects of spirituality in practice: Vichaar: The philosophy that we seek answers from. This helps us understand how life should be lived, and how spirituality should be practised. These concepts, in turn, are the universal lighthouse principles that guide us towards living a life of value. Aachaar: Based on the philosophy is the physical action which leads to a transformation in our value system and helps us develop good conduct and character. When one’s character is transformed by following even a sentence of the rich philosophy, then those actions are called aachaar. Prachaar: The good conduct of a spiritual practitioner inspires others to

have faith in the philosophy and values of spirituality. Without having to give a single sermon, we can reach out to many just by being exemplary and having good character. What great men do, common men follow. In all my talking, I had not realized but we had finally reached the temple. Harry was parked and simply listening to me patiently. ‘Why did you not stop me?’ I said, smiling at Harry. ‘I wanted to hear more. If I had stopped you, you wouldn’t have told me that wonderful story of the Rathayatra,’ he replied. ‘Thank you so much for driving me all the way here, and of course, for the lunch,’ I said as I opened the door. I had already missed all my scheduled events for the evening, so there was no point rushing. ‘Would you like to come inside?’ I asked. ‘That would be great,’ he replied as he grabbed his keys and we both walked out into the humid air of Mumbai. We both entered through the security gate and were greeted warmly by the guards, many of whom I have known for over fifteen years. They are part of our family. The ashram that I call home is located in Girgaum Chowpatty, Mumbai. As you walk through the entrance, you are met with a huge courtyard, with the two-storey temple carved from sandstone—the architecture is sublime! We laughed and joked as we walked towards the shoe stall—you have to take your shoes off when you enter the temple. It’s a gesture that indicates cleanliness and respect for the temple and its people. ‘What was the fourth wheel?’ Harry said all of a sudden as he took off his shoes and handed them to the person in charge of the stall. ‘Maybe we will leave that for another time,’ I said, exhausted from the journey. ‘I will have to come back to your house for the world-class sambar again.’ ‘We will feel insulted if you don’t,’ Harry grinned. At that moment, Harry’s phone rang. It was his wife again. ‘Just a second,’ he said as he stepped away from me to take the call. A few people approached me to take a picture with them, but all the while, my attention was still focused on Harry. I could hear bits of the conversation.

‘Hello? How are you? Why didn’t you pick up earlier?’ Harry said as soon as he got connected. ‘Hello?’ replied a male voice on the other side. ‘Who is this?’ Harry said, alarmed. I noticed his face drop. ‘Mr Iyer, this is Dr Shah from the Breach Candy Hospital. We were trying to get in contact with you, but a fire has taken down some of the phone towers in the area. Your wife is in the hospital. You should come . . .’ The phone cut off again. Harry dropped his phone on the floor, his face pale. I immediately ended my small talk with the guests and rushed to Harry, who was now on the balcony of the temple. ‘What is it?’ ‘Lalita . . . Lalita is in the hospital. There is something wrong. I have to go now,’ he panicked. He ran towards his car. I picked up his phone and ran after him. Summary: Good character has the ability to change lives. It has to do with our actions, not our words. The story about the Rathayatra in Mumbai is a great example of this. The principles of developing character are: Vichaar: The life philosophy we follow. We must learn from it. Aachaar: The action based on that philosophy. We must do it. Prachaar: The good conduct that is displayed to the world through those actions. We must practise it. What great men do, common men follow.



WHEEL 4 SOCIAL CONTRIBUTION

SEVENTEEN Selfless Sacrifice You can be completely selfish, completely selfless or any of the combinations in between. Life is a journey from being selfish to becoming selfless. ‘Act without expectation.’ —Lao Tzu Harry had run down the steps, nearly forgetting to wear his shoes. I followed him down the marble stairs and across the courtyard, clutching his phone whose screen had cracked. The other monks looked on in confusion, as did the elderly guards. They had no idea of the news that Harry had just received. His wife was in hospital, and the doctor had called him to come. Can you imagine the thoughts that must have been going through his head? The pain caused by the thought of losing a loved one can often be just as hurtful as actually losing them. Harry unlocked the car from a distance. He flung open the door of his car, ignoring the man standing close by, selling fresh coconut water from his cart. ‘You don’t have to come, please. Thank you so much for all your time. I am sure you must have so much to do,’ Harry said across the car bonnet to me. It was more important to be there with Harry than to attend to what I had planned. Painful situations are easier to deal with when you have friends by your side to support you. Although I am a monk and have a lot of official duties, I like to be a friend to people I care about. That is a deeper, more personal connection. ‘I am sorry but I am coming with you, whether you like it or not,’ I said, opening the passenger door. We both sat down, seat belts clicked, and he reversed out on to the road not seeing if any other cars were coming. We had to get to the hospital fast. Although I had been sitting in the same seat for over three hours, the whole car seemed completely different. In fact, the same Mumbai that I was used to looked different. The mood in the car was tense, which also affected how I was

perceiving the world. Our whole world view can change in just an instant, when we hear such life-changing news. How do we behave in those situations? How do friends behave in those situations when someone has found out something so upsetting? It was either sweat or tears, or a mixture of both that was running down Harry’s face as he scanned his mind for side roads to dodge the traffic that we were carelessly commuting through just minutes ago. As he tapped on the steering wheel, pressed his horn and repeatedly checked his phone for any sign of news, he blurted out, ‘What was wheel four?’ I thought he was trying to be polite and carry on with our previous conversation. ‘Wheel four?’ I said. I was totally surprised. I was not even thinking about the wheels of the car at that moment. It was not a time for speaking about the essence of life—this was a moment of emergency. It was a time for him to drive fast and act, and for me to support him with my friendship. In times of great calamity, sometimes the right thing to do is to just be there. I wish I had some herbal tea. But I spoke. ‘Wheel four has to do with being selfless, and making a social contribution. But let’s talk about that another time. Let’s focus on reaching your wife—who I am sure is doing perfectly fine.’ He nodded in agreement and focused on the road. We were already zooming past Kemps Corner, ignoring any signals that were telling us to stop and obey the laws of the road. All we needed was a siren on top of our car. Thoughts travel faster than words and they are not always in the right order. In the same vein, I will present this wheel on selflessness quickly here. In a matter of ten minutes from Kemps Corner to the hospital, as we travelled at lightning speed, I thought of all these things. My training as a monk implies that the practice of selflessness is meant to be somewhat natural to me, but like most of us, I still have a long way to go. As Harry drove, I rested my hand on his shoulder in silent consolation and thought of how he at that moment was representing wheel four: to be selfless and to give back. The Ice Cream, the Candle and the Oxygen Mask

Sanskrit is one of the oldest languages in the world. It is the philosophical language of Hinduism and other faiths originating from it. Considered to be the language of the Gods, it sounds elegant and sophisticated and the script is called deva-nagri—from the city of the gods. If you want to call someone a donkey in Sanskrit, one of the words for it is vaishakanandan. How charming that sounds! The word for ice cream is interesting, too. It is dughda-sharkara-yukta-hima- ghana-gola-gattu. Or if you want to add a little flavour, mango ice cream is amra-dughda-sharkara-yukta-hima-ghana-gola-gattu. It takes practice to be able to speak Sanskrit for sure. I am a true fan of Sanskrit, but a bigger fan of ice cream. There is no dessert as delicious as ice cream, especially in the tropics. However, the ideology behind the ice cream is: enjoy your life before it melts. It symbolizes hedonism; to savour every moment of your life through personal enjoyment. On the other hand, the candle is symbolic of another ideology: to give light to others before it melts. Both ice creams and candles melt, but their reason for doing so are completely different. The candle is formed from wax. Its very essence is burnt just to give light for other people to see. This is the selfless nature of a candle. On the spectrum below where do you lie? I am sure that you do not think of yourself as completely selfish. Nor can you put yourself down as completely selfless. We are all somewhere in between. Just because we cannot be candles fully, it does not mean we should simply remain selfish at the ice-cream end. The journey of life is moving from being an ice

cream to being a candle. That is the purpose of everyone’s life at the core: to share, give and contribute to others. ‘But why have we discussed three wheels about ourselves first, then?’ you might ask. ‘If the purpose of life is to give to others, why have we discussed understanding ourselves, being happy at work and in our relationships? Does this not sound selfish?’ To understand this we have to learn from the oxygen mask. A lot of stories in this book have been from my travels. Every flight has safety instructions that we all must follow. Some are about routine things like wearing a seat belt while others are for emergencies, which we hope that we never have to use, like wearing a life jacket or an oxygen mask. As the members of the cabin crew demonstrate the oxygen mask on the plane, the cabin supervisor makes an announcement, ‘If there is a lack of oxygen supply in the cabin, oxygen masks will drop down from the panel above your heads. To activate the flow of oxygen, pull the mask towards you sharply, place it firmly over your nose and mouth, secure the elastic band behind your head and breathe normally. Make sure that your mask is securely fastened before you help children, infants or others.’ Does this last part not sound selfish? Surely we should be helping others before we help ourselves! However, it should be understood that unless we help ourselves and breathe in oxygen, we cannot be of any real help to others. We can only share wealth with others if we possess wealth. Similarly, we can love others only if we know what it feels like to be loved. We can only bring hope to others if we feel hope for ourselves. In conclusion, we can only give to others what we possess. If we try to help others without being satisfied and balanced in the first three wheels, we will not be able to give them something of value, and we could even experience ‘compassion fatigue’. Compassion fatigue is a state of stress experienced by those who help others to the extent that they start suffering because of their preoccupation with the suffering of others. It can be detrimental to care too much; caregivers who do not focus on self-care can develop destructive behaviours over time. Therefore, we need to be slightly selfish to start our journey on a sure footing in order to reach the stage where we can afford to be completely selfless without causing damage to our own well-being.

I do believe it is possible to be completely selfless, but it is a journey, a process, and not a single event. It takes wisdom to know when we are being selfless and when we are simply causing harm to ourselves by being ‘overcaring’. The principle and practice of service involves being somewhere in the middle on the ice cream to candle spectrum: to be selfish yet selfless. My hand was still on Harry’s shoulder. We had become even closer in the last few hours. Remember, revealing the mind and allowing another person to reveal their mind to you breeds deep friendship. At that moment, Harry was displaying complete selflessness. His only thought was helping his wife. In the process, he had nearly forgotten his phone and shoes at the temple. The rage he had spoken with about his wife earlier seemed completely pacified. Sometimes it is in testing situations that we realize how much love we feel for someone. As we zoomed in and out of traffic, back along the shore, I turned to Harry and said, ‘Don’t worry, Harry. Everything is going to be fine. See how much love you have for your wife.’ He gave me half a smile in gratitude, and then focused his attention fully on the road again. I returned to my thoughts. Summary: The philosophy of an ice cream is: Enjoy it before it melts. The philosophy of a candle is: Give light to others before it melts. In order to be happy, we should shift our attitude from being an ice cream to a candle, from being selfish to selfless. This is shown through service. We must be wary of compassion fatigue. This means we must have all our wheels balanced as we try to help others. This is the principle of being selfishly selfless.

EIGHTEEN Family First The first step in selflessness is to practise it with our family. ‘You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.’ —Desmond Tutu Our journey of selflessness from an ice cream to a candle must start somewhere. Often, people can display selflessness outside their home. People may help out in their community, or at temples or schools, and some may even make sure that they get a selfie to announce to the world that they have helped. But at home, they may not express the same service mentality. I believe that selflessness starts at home; with the ones we love the most. Are we doing what we can to help them? Are we there for them to help them physically as well as emotionally? Relationships at home can work well only if all parties have low expectations of each other, but high expectations of themselves to help the other. At this moment, Harry was an example of serving the one you love. Another thought that came to my mind was of Lata Khare, whose story of sacrifice for her husband deeply touched my heart. Running Marathons Lata Bhagavan Khare was a sixty-five-year-old resident of a small village located in the Buldhana district of Maharashtra. Her life was simple. She and her husband would go daily to a landowner’s farm and make just enough to survive; their house was small, but the food they got from the farm filled their stomachs. The small amount of money they had saved throughout their lives was spent on getting their three daughters married. Now that their responsibilities were complete, they enjoyed the simple pleasures of life and each other’s company.

They were inseparable and understood each other completely. Their relationship was a testament of the principle that you did not need luxury to be happy. One day after coming back from the farm, her husband told her that he did not feel so well. She tried all sorts of herbal medicines to help him, but he would not get better. The local government hospital diagnosed him with a serious infection, and they recommended that she go to a bigger hospital that had more facilities to do further tests. Lata was bewildered. They hardly had enough money for the fare to get a ride to the hospital, let alone the expensive tests prescribed by the doctors. With tears in her eyes, she told her husband the news and felt overwhelmed with helplessness. How could she let her husband die in her arms? Plucking up her courage and leaving her ego at the door, she then begged from her neighbours and relatives to gather money to go to the bigger hospital to save her husband’s life. With the help she had received, they got to the big hospital. This was not the sort of place that they were used to being in, so they felt very uncomfortable and out of place. Some people at the hospital gave them strange looks; others ignored them as if they were invisible. Undeterred, Lata fostered up more courage and asked to see a doctor. The people at the reception took an initial fee, nearly everything they had, and asked them to wait outside a doctor’s room until they were called. She sat there, as the important-looking people roamed the hallways speaking terms she didn’t understand. Her middle name was Bhagavan (‘God’ in Sanskrit), and that is whom she prayed to, hoping that he would save her husband and dearest friend. When the time came, her husband was called in. After an examination, the doctor handed her a list of further tests, prescribed medications and a recommendation to stay at the hospital. Lata sank back into her chair as her world suddenly turned dark. I have no money, I have nowhere to go, how will I afford this to help the love of my life? she thought. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she and her husband solemnly walked out of the hospital. They could not afford the commercial prices of the hospital canteen, so they stopped by a samosa–wallah at the bus stop. They bought two for the bus journey back to their village. All Lata could think about was that this could be her husband’s last meal. The samosa–wallah wrapped their snack up in a newspaper and handed it to her with a smile. As she ate her samosa and chutney from the newspaper pack, she saw the headline: ‘Baramati Marathon: Prize

Money Available’. Her heart skipped a beat, but regained its rhythm fast. She would need it pumping for the race she was about to run. The next day as everyone lined up at the start of the race, in their running gear, Lata Khare stood there in her red-checked Maharashtrian-style sari. Barefoot, and with tears in her eyes, she argued with the organizers to allow her to run in the marathon, but they refused. She was sixty-five! In trying to save her husband, they did not want her to pass away. After an hour of begging and pleading, they finally agreed to let her run and pinned a number on her clothes. As she began running, people turned to look at her and laughed. Many of them had thought that she must have come with her daughter or son to have them participate in the race; they were shocked to see her running. She took no notice of the other sniggering competitors. It was a sight for sore eyes. Teenagers and young adults who had been practicing for months for this race lined up next to an old lady who had hitched her sari above her ankles. She had never run a race in her life, to say nothing of a marathon. Little did her competitors know that they were about to get schooled by someone who was old enough to be their grandmother. She could not think of anything else, but the love she had for her husband. This race was a matter of life and death. What were a few pebbles and rocks to stop her progress? Lata ran like the wind with one focus—the finish line. Her feet began to bleed, her sari became soaked with sweat, but she kept running. It would have been an achievement even if she could just finish the race. The people who witnessed this spectacle cheered her on; they were touched by her reason for running. It would be a pointless story if she did not win. There was no award for participation but she had done it! The organizers of the race could not believe that Lata Khare, a sixty-five-year-old Maharashtrian woman from a small village, had won the race. The crowds on the streets of Baramati clapped for her and celebrated her victory. She was a local hero, but she did not care for the attention. She collected her winnings, marched into the hospital and got her husband the best treatment. At the same time, she got a few bandages for her feet! Her only motive was to save her husband. As they say, the most powerful force in the world is love. Lata went on to win for the next two years consecutively, but that’s another story.

I wanted to tell Harry this story, but it was not the right time. His situation was very similar to Lata’s. Just as she ran to help her love, Harry was doing everything he could at that moment to help his. Selflessness starts with our family, but it should not just end there. To expand our circle of selflessness, we should help those outside of our immediate care and affection too. Summary: On one level, we practise selflessness in helping our family. Our day- to-day sacrifices to maintain our family relations are acts of selflessness. We do not necessarily have to run marathons like Lata Khare to display our devotion to those we love. Our circle of selflessness should not end with our family. We should help those outside of our immediate care and affection too.

NINETEEN The Nation Narrative We can increase our scope of selflessness beyond our family by serving our community, city or even nation. ‘You need an attitude of service. You’re not just serving yourself. You help others to grow up and you grow with them.’ —David Green We zigzagged in the traffic, using all our knowledge of the city to get to the hospital via back roads. It is incredible how much you miss when you just stick to the beaten path. I was seeing parts of the city that I had not seen before, and people were shocked to see a high-end car with a monk in the passenger seat zoom through their neighbourhood. The roar of the engine was deafening to the city-folk dwelling in these parts who were carrying out their daily duties of congregating and drinking chai. To us, however, the roar meant that we would get to Lalita sooner. It could have been that because we were in deep conversation on the way to the temple that we missed it, but going a different route we saw the cause of the traffic. Mumbai had ground to a halt because of the flames that were engulfing a building. Billowing smoke formed spirals in the sky as it rose from the top of the three-storey apartment. It was a terrifying sight. Traffic built up around the scene as people stopped and stared, and the police tried their best to divert both. The red lights of fire engines lined the streets, and we even saw some soldiers from the armed forces there to assist them. My attention fell upon two men—one a firefighter and another a soldier—who were working hand in hand to grab one of the long hoses from the fire engines. They both ran with it together and stood right next to the blaze trying to defeat it. In times of calamity, teamwork makes all the difference; people must come together. The sacrifice these men were making, reminded me of another man from the Indian Army—my friend, Brigadier Sunil Kumar N.V. When he was

telling me his story, he choked up. And since it wasn’t common for a man from the army to get emotional, I had asked him, ‘What’s wrong?’ Though he said nothing, I guessed he was simply expressing the love he felt for his men as they bravely served their country. I marvelled at how widening your circle of influence to help your community and nation is more fulfilling than just helping your family. Sunil Kumar’s stories offer the perfect examples of how this works. Serving the Country ‘The leaves crunched as our Indian commando team walked in a single file surrounded by the overgrowth of the Sri Lankan jungle,’ Sunil Kumar began. ‘Each of our commandos had black-and-green warpaint on their faces to complete the camouflage. Their fingers lurked around their semi-automatic rifles. They could not trust the rustling and singing of the tropical birds in the canopy. An uneasy silence fell over the troop as they looked at each other, knowing what was coming. ‘All of a sudden, birds flew from the top of a tree as they heard the gunshots. It was the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam attacking our Indian Peacekeeping Force. AK-47 bullets from the Tamil Tigers clawed into our ambushed task force. We lay flat on the ground in defence and, following the echoes of the storm of bullets, fired eastwards. ‘Most of our men escaped. We weren’t sure how many were left,’ Sunil continued. ‘It was 1988, and technology was not as advanced as it is today. It would take some time to find out how many casualties there were across the jungle floor. We got a crackling call to our unit that one of our commandos was critically injured and had to be evacuated. Where was he exactly? We didn’t know. How badly was he injured? We didn’t know. How many men were around him? You see the picture of uncertainty developing. However, we were called in to help and rescue him. ‘We started our treacherous trek towards him. On our journey, we saw the footprints of the men who had gone through the jungle before us. The long, winding path followed a freshwater stream, taking us through unfamiliar territory. We reached the site quicker than we’d expected. I suppose when you know someone is in danger, you work harder to help them. We could still hear

gunshots in the distance, but we reached our man relatively unharmed,’ Kumar added. ‘Even before seeing the soldier, you could smell the wretched stench of blood and flesh. He was so badly injured that some of his internal organs had fallen out through the deep cuts in his body. Blood gushed from him and he cried in pain. “I don’t want to die,” he screamed when he saw us. “Tell my wife and children I love them. Tell my countrymen I love them,” he continued, unable to hold back his emotions. It was an urgent situation and we had to get him out of there at any cost. Any more noise would attract the Tamil Tigers to pounce on us. ‘We opened the stretcher we were carrying and quickly shifted him onto that. First aid was tough in a situation where adrenaline was flowing like oxygen. “We have a casualty. Calling for helicopter evac.!” I spoke into my portable radio. ‘“No can do,” it replied. “The jungle is too hot and there is not a field in sight.” They could not risk having the helicopter blown out of the air. We had to find another way out of that hell and take our man to a military hospital. ‘Considering his condition, we only had one choice,’ the brigadier said. ‘We picked him up on the stretcher and moved quickly to the nearest road, where we flagged down a car and took control. I am a Keralite and, hence, I managed to pass off as Sri Lankan. It was easy for us to convince the driver to take us to the hospital as we blended in with the locals. It was a dangerous move. If the person whose car we were in was a sympathizer of the Tamil Tigers, we would have no hope. They were notorious for randomly stopping vehicles. But finally, we raced through the jungle and managed to get to a military hospital just in time for our injured comrade to live to tell the tale. ‘After a few months he was back in the unit, ready to go out on duty again. This was the camaraderie within the army; we were willing to sacrifice for each other and the nation. It is this spirit that motivates us to serve more.’ Sunil Kumar did not just talk about the heat of the jungle. He also mentioned his time on the highest battlefield on earth—the Siachen Glacier in the Himalayas. Talking about the team spirit in the army, he said: ‘I was commanding a group of men to protect the frozen Indian border, which lay on a huge chunk of ice. Life is unpredictable on the glacier. There can be avalanches, which can bury you under tonnes of falling snow. Or, in my opinion, something

worse: the glacier is known for its random crevices, ice cracking open, creating canyons 100–200 feet deep. Whilst walking without being alert, if you fall through, which has happened in the past, your rescue would be hopeless. Your body would freeze as temperatures plummet to -100 degrees Celsius inside the abyss. ‘We came up with a way to stay safe together. We tied ourselves with a long rope, so if one person fell in the crevice, the others could crack ice picks into the ground and then we could all pull him back up. We were risking our lives, not just from fighting in the war, but from the deadly cold that directly risks the heart and the body. It was our team spirit that allowed us to put our lives on the line for each other and the country,’ Brigadier Kumar recounted. My mind was frozen on the Siachen Glacier as the tyres screeched. I was thinking about how all of us could sleep peacefully at night only because the tough men and women of the Indian Armed Forces stand ready to face any challenges, even ready to sacrifice their lives, to protect the nation and its citizens. The least we can do to pay back our military is, as a nation and as citizens, to try to be worthy of the sacrifices they make for us. We had arrived at the hospital. I diverted my full attention back to Harry as he slouched in his seat, holding the bottom of the steering wheel. He paused and breathed, changing his mood from the manic nature of his driving. ‘What if she doesn’t make it?’ he said, looking me in the eye. ‘Make what?’ I replied. ‘What if she is taken away from me?’ he cried. It’s in moments of great grief that we understand what people mean to us, I thought. I said nothing as I leaned across the seat to give him a hug. He wiped his eyes with the handkerchief in his blazer pocket. It had been an emotionally tiring day for him, and it was about to get even more so. He exhaled and opened his door. I leapt out of the passenger side and followed him as he entered the hospital to meet his fate. Summary: When we expand the circle of selflessness, we can effectively serve our community and nation. This is shown by the heroic efforts of the

soldiers who keep us safe, and the civil servants who help run our nations.

TWENTY Service Brings Joy In Sanskrit, service is called seva. Adding a spiritual element to our seva can make it more fulfilling. ‘The service you do for others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.’ —Muhammad Ali The hospital was noisy. Doctors in white coats walked around with a sense of confidence, and rightly so. Their actions could mean the difference between life and death, between grieving or happy homes, between dreams achieved or buried for good. They had the power to make a difference. Harry rushed to the reception. ‘How can I help?’ the receptionist smiled at Harry, immune to the urgency in his manner. She did a double take when she saw me, interested in my unusual apparel. ‘We need the room number for Lalita . . .’ Harry said, but was interrupted by the receptionist answering the phone. ‘Just a moment, sir . . . “Hospital, how can I help you?”’ The receptionist had tuned out to answer her phone. Harry groaned, clenched his teeth, tapped his fingers on the counter and gave the receptionist a deadly stare. He spoke louder, ‘I need the room number for Lalita . . .’ The receptionist took no notice of Harry’s demeanour. She swivelled her chair slightly and twirled the winding cord of the phone around her finger. ‘Iyer. Heart rate is stable, pyrexia, emesis since arrival,’ a young doctor said to an older one, as he followed him. The older doctor looked important and commanded the respect of ten, who seemed like students following him. They were captivated by every word he spoke. Harry overheard his surname and barged into the intimate circle of medical students with their tutor. ‘Did you say Iyer?’ Harry asked the student. The student looked at his tutor, unsure of how to reply.

‘We cannot reveal any confidential patient information to you, sir,’ the student said cautiously. ‘I am Harry Iyer, husband of Lalita Iyer. When you said Iyer, did you mean her? Lalita Iyer? Where is she?’ Harry said, ignoring the student and directing his question at their senior. ‘Mr Iyer?’ the tutor said. ‘Hello, my name is Dr Harshil Shah, we spoke on the phone earlier.’ Harry shook the doctor’s hand with both of his. ‘Where is Lalita? What is going on?’ he said, still holding the doctor’s hand, knowing well that Dr Shah was his lifeline to his wife. ‘Please follow me, sir. We are just running some tests,’ Dr Shah replied. He had not taken much notice of me yet. He sped away up some stairs, getting handed medical charts by nurses wearing white nursing caps along the way. Harry chased the doctor. The medical students chased Harry, excited as if they were now seeing something of value, and I chased the whole group knowing that I had to be there for my friend. Harry and I were both stationed in the first-floor waiting area by the doctor who said we may have to wait for some time before we could see Lalita. He confirmed that she was on this floor and then disappeared just as fast with his band of trainees. We did not have much idea of what was going on. Harry closed his eyes and put his hands together. It looked as though he was praying, but I was not sure. His face was solemn. One after another, the doctors were calling in people for either an appointment or to see their loved ones. It was only after thirty minutes had passed that Dr Shah called for Harry. ‘Harry Iyer, Lalita is now well enough to see you.’ ‘What was the problem?’ Harry said whilst walking over to him. ‘Will she be okay? Where is she?’ He went down the corridor into a room where his wife was. As I sat in the waiting area, fearing the worst, I looked around, watching the doctors interacting with their patients—with love and compassion—and I thought about the instinct that drives a spiritualist to act. It is one of seva or selfless service. My mind went back in time to the start of February, to the hospital that our community runs on Mira Road, Mumbai, and the values that the doctors working there have been inspired by. Many of them were stationed in the sacred land of Barsana, giving their time, skills and hearts to serve those who

needed it the most in their annual free Dental and Eye Camp. I remembered the stories one of my friends from London, Vinay Raniga, a dental student himself at the time, told me about the camp. Devotion at the Dental Camp The land of Barsana, two hours’ drive south of New Delhi, is sacred to those who practise bhakti yoga. It is home to people who have been brought up to make spirituality their life’s focus, to imbibe the qualities of selflessness and loving service. However, these very people do not have the best healthcare systems. Many of them need glasses as they cannot see, or need dental treatment as they cannot eat. The Barsana Dental and Eye Camp provides relief for thousands of villagers in the area at least once a year, and Vinay had come to help out at the dental camp. The dental camp turns an ashram building a few minutes’ walk from the famous Sriji temple into a pop-up dental clinic for the week. Weeks before the camp, a few of the volunteers go around to the neighbouring villages, advertising the opportunity the villagers have to improve their health. The camp begins at eight in the morning, but by 4 a.m., there is already a queue of hundreds waiting for their chance to get their problems addressed. As the camp starts, a few dentists do a brief assessment of patients, giving them a signed sheet of the treatment they need. Patients are sent to departments accordingly. Some need fillings, others need teeth extracted and a few need a full set of upper and lower dentures. Vinay told me, ‘I was helping in the area that deals with making these dentures for elderly patients. After begging and convincing my professors in London, I had been given permission to take some time out from my course to attend the camp. Up until this point, I had never even made a denture, let alone the forty we were about to make in a week. I remember thinking that I wanted to match these colleagues, not just in the skill they had in dentistry, but the love they displayed to these materially poverty-stricken people who could give them nothing, but their heartfelt blessings.

‘I was guided by the qualified dentists on all the procedures, and was slightly embarrassed that I did not know the basic terms they were explaining. After a few practice sessions, I decided that I wanted to complete a set of dentures myself for a patient, working on all the stages from start to finish. That was when I met Nangu,’ Vinay continued. ‘Nangu was a seventy-two-year-old woman born and brought up in Barsana. She had never left the village, and lived a simple life tending to her cows and farm. Whenever she came to me she wore a modest purple sari, using a part of it to cover her head, and a tattered orange sweater. She lived in poverty, in a simple thatched house, which had few possessions, but it was obvious that she possessed a deeper wealth within her in the form of love for her goddess Srimati Radharani. ‘“I am a dental student from London,” I said to her in my broken Hindi. “I am here to make you a set of dentures. Would you like that?” ‘She nodded and spoke about her problems in having to eat without any teeth. You could see the appreciation in her eyes and what having teeth would mean to her. She was radiant and showered me with her grandmotherly love. Because we had lab technicians on site, a process that would normally take months was shortened to just three days. On the third day, it was time to hand the dentures over to Nangu. ‘As she walked back into the room, you could feel the anticipation within her. It was like a child excited to open their presents at Christmas or Diwali. I tried the upper denture in her mouth first and then the lower. I was heartbroken at what I saw. Her lower teeth were in front of her upper teeth. “What shall I do?” I pestered one of the other senior dentists who was more experienced than I. ‘She is posturing forward. You need to let her get used to it,’ he said calmly whilst treating his own patient. After years of not having teeth, Nangu had got used to pushing her lower jaw forward to eat, but that could be corrected by helping her practise putting it in the right place. Thank God! I thought. Although this was volunteering and service, and there was no monetary pressure involved, I still felt great commitment to make sure Nangu got a good set of teeth. All I could think was, this woman is like my very own grandmother!

‘After some time, her lower jaw fell into place and the dentures came together,’ Vinay said. ‘I held her hand to help her get up from the garden chair she was sitting on. Again, this was a makeshift dental clinic! I slowly helped her get to a mirror that was hanging in the open courtyard next to the room. I told her to close her eyes as we walked. As she stood in front of the mirror, I told her to open them. For the first time in fifteen years she was seeing shiny new teeth. She tapped her teeth together, cautiously trying to get used to her bite. Tears were streaming down her face as she moved closer to the mirror, wiping away some of the dust that covered it. I could not help but cry too. She sat on the stairs next to the mirror and I squatted down next to her. She stroked my hair with affection and I folded my hands to receive her blessings. “What does this mean to you?” I asked her. “It means that I can eat and chew properly. It means that my stomach can be filled at night,” she said as she smiled and her eyes glistened. It was a heart-touching moment for me, to know that my service had added some value to her life.’ Seva So what is driving Vinay to serve? What is driving all the people who apply spirituality in their life to help others? When we connect to ourselves and with the divine, our understanding, values and paradigms transform. When we practise spirituality sincerely, we obtain a higher perspective of life. We understand that living for ourselves has the potential to satisfy the mind and senses, but not the deep core of our hearts. When we live superficial lives, dedicated to serving ourselves, we are like surfers: riding the waves, but not seeing what is beneath them. We may satisfy our own needs and concerns by doing so, but we will never be truly fulfilled. However, when we practise spirituality, we become like divers: we submerge ourselves underneath the turbulent waves to find a pleasure much deeper, beyond hedonistic ideals. That profound joy is only possible when one feels love to serve others. And how is that love maintained? Through being connected to God through spirituality. Love for God is composed of three things: Right Action: We must express our love through the correct action. We must behave and act in a way that is in line with spiritual principles.

Right Intention: Our intentions must be selfless. When we want something for ourselves in return for our service, such as prestige or money, our intentions become tainted. Just as distilling water multiple times makes it cleaner, continuously checking our intentions makes them purer. Right Mood: We must serve in a way that is favourable for our growth. Serving because ‘we have to’ or because ‘it’s the right thing to do’ is good, but it’s not the same as serving from the depths of our hearts. When that love is within our hearts, it erupts and naturally wants to be given to others. I once heard a saint cite the example of a bumblebee. ‘Once a bumblebee was flying and saw an open jar of honey. Out of excitement, it decided to dive into the jar, completely covering itself with the delicious, sticky liquid. As it flew out of the jar, it rushed to tell all the other bumblebees what had happened, and in the process, a few drops of honey started flying out of its mouth at all the other bees. For all its friends, this was incredible. They were getting honey just because of the enthusiasm and actions of that one bee. Similarly, when we have deep love for God, it becomes natural for us to want to share that with everyone. That is because a person connected to God has a compassionate and empathetic heart. The true symptom of someone who is experiencing genuine love for God is that they experience compassion and the pain of the suffering that people go through in this world,’ the saint said. Likewise, Jesus Christ said in the Bible, ‘The highest commandment is to love thy God with all thy soul and all thy might and all thy heart.’ He then said that because of following the highest commandment of loving God we begin to ‘love thy neighbour as thy self’. This means when we become spiritually minded and experience the love of God, we feel compassion for the pain of others. In Sanskrit it is called para dukha dukhi, one who feels pain in the pain of others. In the modern world, people sometimes become para dukha sukhi, where they take pleasure in seeing the pain of others. However, true compassion stems from spirituality. I could understand the pain that Harry was feeling, but I was not at the level of para dukha dukhi, one who truly feels the pain others are going through. Still, I endeavoured to comfort him and give him words of solace all through this

stressful time. Several tense minutes passed as I sat in the waiting area. I was thinking about the worst that could happen and prayed that my mind’s conjecture be incorrect. ‘Mr Das? Mr Gaur Gopal Das?’ Dr Shah said. ‘Harry and Lalita would like to see you in their room.’ I gulped, and wrapped my brown cotton shawl around myself, either to protect me from the heavy air-conditioning or subconsciously from the news I was about to hear. I walked down the gloomy corridor to room 116, knocked on the door and turned its handle slowly. Lalita was lying down on the bed and Harry was by her side, holding her hand whilst sitting on a small stool. The nurse in the room excused herself so that they could share their news. I stood awkwardly in front of them. ‘We have some news to share with you,’ Harry said. I was glad I was in a hospital, because my heart was pumping blood around my body faster than I could think. ‘But it’s not what you think.’ He let Lalita take over. ‘Harry and I have been trying for a child for a long time, and today I got the news that the intense morning-sickness I was suffering from is actually a good sign. Harry and I are expecting a child!’ I breathed a huge sigh of relief and joined Harry, his mother and Lalita, congratulating them profusely, as they smiled and laughed uncontrollably. The hospital, which had seemed dark and dreary just moments ago—a place of death and disease—was now transformed into a place which was offering new life. The flavour of the joy I tasted in the hospital room that day was out of this world. It was unmatchable—second, perhaps, only to one other: Lalita’s incredible sambar. Summary: In Sanskrit, service is called seva. Adding a spiritual element to our seva can make it more fulfilling. Based on our connection to God, we utilize our skills and potential to serve others. We learnt about Vinay at the Barsana Dental Camp. From spiritual practice comes seva: ‘The true symptom of someone who is experiencing genuine love for God is that they experience

compassion and pain for the suffering that people go through in this world.’ We have to do the right action, with the right intention and in the right mood for it to be classed as spiritual.

Author’s Note On 9 May 2017, I received a call from Ms Vaishali Mathur, the executive editor and head of rights and language publishing at Penguin Random House India. She had seen a couple of my videos online and wanted to explore the possibility of me writing a book with them. It sounded exciting to me! I had always believed in trying to make a difference in the lives of people by helping them to redefine their thinking. I had been trying to do that through my speaking and lecturing for over two decades, and now here was a golden opportunity to take my purpose to the next level. Naturally, I wanted to say yes straight away, but there was something within me holding me back. I gave her a typical answer, ‘Let’s see. I’ll get back to you soon,’ which, in hindsight, must have been frustrating for her. My reservation came from the fact that I am not a writer. Apart from a couple of articles and poems I had written years ago, the pen was used for signing managerial documents and the keyboard for my diary and records. A few days later, after the excitement settled and I began to give the offer some serious thought, I received a call from an old friend in London, Sruti Dharma Das. He had been my well-wisher long before my online presence grew. Out of the blue, he was now calling me to remind me that I needed to write a book. ‘That is the next step for you,’ he said. ‘A speaker should have a book to complement his talks, because that will truly benefit his listeners. They can then take your talk home with them! And writing should not be too hard for someone who regularly speaks, anyway.’ I felt flattered by his kind words. A lack of experience in writing wasn’t the only issue for me. I travel extensively to speak around the world. I knew that writing a book would need focused time, grounding me in one location to think deeply about what I wanted to offer to the world. However, this would mean cancelling a lot of speaking engagements, letting many people down. It was then, as I scrolled online, that I came across a quote by Sir Richard Branson, ‘If someone offers you an amazing opportunity, and you are not sure you can do it, say YES, then learn how to do it